Member-only story
When I see a gender bigot of any sort who says we transgender women or men had a choice of our gender lifestyles. I just shake my head in disbelief. Having any sort of a choice in my gender battles has always been the furthest thing in my mind.
In my case, the best way I can describe the torment of the transgender dysphoria I went through was similar to fighting an individual civil war. My feminine side fought a vicious war to free herself from the male self who was fighting equally as hard to remain in control. Even though deep down he knew the existence was built on a false premise. From a very early age, I knew I deeply admired the girls and dreamed of how it would be to have the chance to be the cheerleader instead of the defensive end on the football team. A prime example among others including not have to wear the same old boring clothes. I so envied the girls with their pretty dresses and shoes.
None of my envy did me any good and my civil war grew more intense the more I did to relieve the problem. Even though I was able to increase my meager wardrobe of feminine clothes, the more I wanted. Especially when I was able to buy my own makeup and began to experiment ever more seriously when I viewed my new image in the mirror. Even though most of my attempts were predictably clownish, I slowly became more skilled and every now and then even was able to catch a glimpse of my…
